No Choices Left
by hotadoablobles
Summary: AU. Follows the lives of several characters during the beginning of The Second Wizarding War. A woman named Carys Blackthorne, a spymaster's apprentice, her mysterious mentor Thomas Everett, and a potential double agent named Severus Snape. Given an impossible set of choices, they find themselves with a challenge more daunting than they would have ever predicted.
1. Captivity

I had given up on my attempts to silence my ever persistent thoughts quite some time ago. It was freezing, yet somehow the air was still thick and damp and a wretched smell hung around. Whether it was coming from the cell itself or me was impossible to tell. I'd occupied the pitch darkness for some time, as the compartment had no light source, save a rather unhelpful sliver of white that managed to find its way through a small crack at the bottom of the door.

In spite of my efforts to sleep, persistent hunger and thirst kept me wide awake, afraid I'd miss my next opportunity to eat or drink. The hole I'd been tossed into was only about five feet by five feet in area judging by how much I was able to stretch my legs while lying down, and was mostly occupied by a cot that was somehow more uncomfortable than the cold stone floor.

None of those discomforts could compare to the maddening silence, however. They'd taught me the hard way not to make sounds of my own, the bruises from that had long faded and been replaced. In the best of scenarios, the next sound I would hear would be a merciful guard coming to dump a bucket of water on me to 'wash away some of the smell.' The last time that had happened, he had barely closed the door before I began licking myself, the rags I wore, and the floor in hopes of quenching my thirst, but it only made me more desperate for a real drink of water and I quickly grew fatigued and gave up.

My mind had wandered far from here, and I'd been daydreaming for some time about getting out. Particularly how, if I ever did, the first cigarette would be glorious. I had imagined the sensation of being well fed, my thirst quenched, smoking a cigarette so vividly, I'd almost fool myself into feeling it. It was during one of those moments of near-relief when the metal door outside screeched open, making me wince at the sudden, sharp noise. My heart raced wildly and I held perfectly still, knowing there was no way to stop what was to come next. As the person who had opened the door stepped through it my throat tightened.

He had a false leg, giving him a very easy to distinguish gait. I winced at each _clank_ of metal on stone growing ever closer. It was clear he wasn't alone, a clatter of footsteps followed him.

The sound stopped outside the door, and his uneven breathing was distinguishable through the thick metal slab.

"The key then," he muttered, almost too quietly for me to make out in spite of my hearing being particularly sensitive. Closing my eyes tightly at the the jingling of keys followed by the sound of one being placed into the lock, my jaw set so tight I might have feared it would break under any other circumstance, my knees drawn to my chest tightly, I used the last moment to pray once again, to no one in particular, that this wasn't about to happen. That they were coming to set me free, finally.

As the door swung open I was blinded by the sudden surge of bright light, and it was a struggle not to weep openly as the outline of the gnarled man who had been questioning me loomed above. He had strings of thinning blonde hair hanging wildly about his face and terrifying eyes. One beady dark one, and one unblinking magical eye that wizzed about freely. Even not being able to see a thing, I could feel it on me as he spoke.

"Your turn then, 4508," he smiled, his coarse voice grating against every fiber in my being. "Perhaps today you're ready to answer my questions."

The guards pulled me roughly to my feet and my hands were shackled in front of me. Not that they needed to be, I was far too weak to run or fight. They forced me out of the cell and pushed through an antechamber then into a large atrium. The stone floor seemed to get colder on my bare feet as we grew closer to the next door. I was shoved in and led across another antechamber to yet another thick metal door.

"After you," the interrogator grinned and I stepped into the room solemnly. It was about twice the size of my cell and it's only furnishing was a stone chair with manacles on either arm in its center. Above the chair a bright orb lit the room well, and there was clearly blood, which had barely been washed away from its previous occupant.

Putting up no resistance as the guard behind me pushed past and dragged me into the chair, reshackling me the moment I sat down. My eyes narrowed and closed my mind, painfully aware that what was about to happen would be the same whether I kept my wits about me or not. and even though I was exhausted and terrified, my pride wouldn't allow me to simply give up. No. My eyes wide open now, jaw aching from being set tight for so long I stared forward as the guards left, as the interrogator stepped into the room, forcing myself not to wince as the door shut tightly leaving us alone. For a long moment, there was only silence again, as he stood in the corner, appraising me. I refused to look back, afraid that in doing so, I'd lose the shred of control I had left.

"Now then," the man began, sending a chill down my spine, "shall we begin?"


	2. The Isle

Though it was the middle of the day, the densely overcast sky made it appear to be nighttime on the small island. Lightning flashed in the nebulous sky above frequently, causing thunder to echo through the hillocks, which were covered with overgrown grass. The shores were covered in grey sand, giving them an ashen, melancholy appearance against the foaming sea. On the northernmost shore, two figures popped from thin air onto the dour beach; a man and a woman, both fairly tall, wearing dark hooded cloaks . The pair made their way further inland, taking a path from the beach to the isle's sole structure; a large dark grey tower, which jutted upward aggressively against the bright green grass. As they drew closer to the tower they could see it was more clearly surrounded by more of the dark sand, as well as large chunks of broken stone which had clearly fallen from the edifice.

The door was guarded by a sizable man, and an equally sizable dog. The pair stopped, allowing the dog to give them a few precautionary sniffs as the guard addressed them. He looked them over thoroughly. The other man stood just a couple inches shorter than he, with a very defined square jaw. He had a large forehead and a defined brow, his brown hair was cut fairly short, though it remained long enough to reveal slight curls at the ends. His hooded eyes were a lovely shade of light blue, though they appeared grey in the isle's light. The woman stood a few inches shorter than her companion, however her lanky physique exaggerated her height slightly. She had olive skin, and dark brunette hair, and fairly average features. Her upturned, hazel eyes bore into him and he realized he had not yet spoken.

"Papers please," he said, surprising the two slightly, as they had expected little to no politeness to be observed in a place like this. They both silently produced their identification, and were allowed into the grim framework. There, they found themselves in a spacious, circular, stone room which contained three other doors, each opposite another, and a desk in its center. It contained no windows, and was lit by several bright orbs that hung in high in the cold, damp air. A frumpy, portly man with large teeth, curly brown hair, and a pale, freckled complexion greeted the duo from behind the desk, standing as they entered.

"Ah, Agent Blackthorne, Agent Everett, you're exactly on time," he said with a bit too much cheer, given the environment. "I trust you had a safe journey?"

"Yes, we did," the man acknowledged curtly. Though he'd only spoken three words, his low, flat tone made his American accent quite pronounced. "I trust you're prepared to see us?"

"We are indeed, we are indeed, if you'll just allow me to store your wands for the time being before we proceed. Security and all that," he explained.

Neither the man or the woman moved.

"I do not believe I caught your name, Mr…" the woman began, her voice impassive, each word enunciated precisely in a cut-glass American accent.

"Bennett, Edward Bennett," he chirped, "and might I add that it is truly an honour to meet you Agent Blackthorne."

"Yes well, that said, we won't be turning in our wands. You must understand, it is simply not acceptable, given the state of things here," she continued, gesturing vaguely, "and the purpose of our visit. I discussed this measure in your security previously with a representative who assured me that with our clearance it would not be necessary. "

Bennett was a bit taken aback by this development, though he gathered himself quickly, with a "one moment please," and turned to his desk. He opened the second drawer and pulled a file out, which he skimmed until he arrived at the same conclusion.

"I do apologize for missing that," he said, earnestly, "this place can get a bit monotonous at times, and the mind tends to wander. Right to it then, shall we?"

The solemn pair were led to the door directly across from the entrance. The unkempt man pulled out a large, full key ring, managing somehow to select the correct key from the jumble on the first try. He opened the door with surprising grace and stepped through before the agents. "I do apologize in advance for the inconvenience. I got notice just before you arrived that the release orders en route were delayed slightly. There was a bit of a kerfuffle evidently between the minister's office and the aurors'," Bennett explained, as though they'd been conversing the whole time. "I've been assured that they'll be here within the hour, so rather than take care of that order of business now, we shall have to do so after the tour of the facility and the meeting with the staff representatives."

Blackthorne exchanged a very brief look with Everett before nodding slightly and saying, "that will do just fine."

They were led down a wide stone hallway to another room, this one far more ample than the last. It was triangular, the walls equal in size. Stone steps and walkways spiraled along the walls, and the ceiling high above them was glass, lighting the room partially with the pale light from outside. Lower, more orbs of white light shone near each of the walkways, giving the stone a rather light appearance. It would have perhaps looked noble, maybe beautiful under different circumstances. It was certainly an architectural marvel. They made their way up exactly 17 flights of steps before they were stopped at a metal door. Their guide seemed out of breath slightly, as he unlocked it, again on the first try, and led them down a smaller, dimmer corridor and into another circular room, this one with six smaller walkways clearly leading to cells, which were lit even more dimly.

Before the frumpy man could explain where they were, there was a sudden nip in the air and the three watched as a large form sailed from one of the openings to their left. The immense wraith in dark, tattered looking robes drifted slowly to the center of the chamber before turning toward the trio, moving ever closer. The guide put his hand toward his wand, but agent Blackthorne grabbed his arm, stopping him as the spectre hovered directly in front of her. A majority of its face was covered by the same tattered black cloth that made up its robes, however a pale jaw and the thin black line of it's closed mouth were left exposed. It studied her for a moment, as if sizing her up, before slowly drifting backwards to the center of the room, almost appearing to bow slightly before continuing on its way.

The woman took her hand off of the now even paler man's arm. "Just a dementor. They are in the employ of the Ministry, yes?" she asked quietly.

"Y-yes," the man stammered, before regaining his composure. "They were here long before we were, and they are employed as guards here, but…"

For the first time since the unpleasantness at the entrance, Everett spoke up. "They aren't stable?" he asked, his monotone leaving only a slight air of what may have been incredulity. "What is their compensation?"

The woman turned to him giving him another quick look, and their nervous looking guide took a long breath before speaking up. "Well… they are wraiths, summoned by a dark wizard who occupied this place in the fifteenth century. They are kept at bay from the rest of the world largely by what they gain from this place's- ah, occupants."

Everett nodded slightly.

"We don't have to stay here long," Bennett continued, "this particular area is simply currently unoccupied." The three walked down the hall the dementor had come from, to a single at its end. The door was open, showing a very cramped, dingy chamber, with a grimy cot occupying about half of the space. An incredibly dim orb stuck to the ceiling lighting the room poorly. "These are the quarters of of long-term inmates," Bennett said, a hint of resentment in his voice, "they are fed two times a day, and let out once a week to socialize with other inmates who are approved for two hours, all under strict observation."

The two agents nodded, their cool expressions turned slightly grim. "It seems we have our work cut out for us," Blackthorne murmured, almost to herself, as they walked back out to the triangular chamber.

They walked up much higher, all of them silently reflective. They had nearly reached the top of the atrium, on the final flight of stairs now, when their pink-faced chaperon stopped. The operatives could see guards standing outside of three doors, one on each wall. "Now, this is going to be a bit more harsh," Bennett confessed, "there are currently two inmates still being held for interrogation."

"Neither of the inmates who are set to be released, correct?" Blackthorne asked

"Not to my knowledge, though given what I gleaned from the Ministry's message, that is worth verifying while we're here," he vacillated, "would you prefer to do that before or after entering to inspect the empty interrogation chamber?"

"Before," she said, letting a hint of frustration enter her voice, adding, "I know the names; no need to pull notes."

Bennett nodded and led them more swiftly up to the first set of guards. "Status report, please," he said, reaching into his coat and flashing his badge

"Two prisoners are currently being held in the interrogation sector. One in inactive interrogation in holding cell 4502, one who occupies holding cell 4508 in active interrogation."

"Their names?" Agent Blackthorne asked calmly. The guard gave Bennett an uneasy look, and their escort nodded at him.

The guard gave a curt nod, though he still looked slightly put off by the question. He turned to the thick metal door behind him, pulling from a compact sheath, a crisp piece of parchment. The sentry glanced at the parchment for a few seconds before placing it back in its container and turning to face the three inquirerors once more. "The prisoner occupying holding cell 4502 is Rodolphus Lestrange, and the prisoner occupying holding cell 4508 is Severus Snape. Both were brought on charges of conspiracy, and are known death eaters."

Agent Blackthorne cocked her head slightly, "and who is the interrogator in the active session?"

The guard looked again at Bennett , who again nodded.

"The interrogator is Auror Alastor Moody." he said

The woman nodded. "If you would give my partner and I just a moment please," she said coolly, turning to Everett, who followed her mutely back down the stairs. Once they'd reached the bottom she turned sharply to her colleague, frustration now clearly visible on her face. "You're going to have to let me pull him out of here, he's the one from the preliminary report. We can't overexert our reach too much this early, however; so how do you think we should play this?"

Everett frowned slightly, "perhaps we should just finish the tour, then take him into our custody after." It was clear he didn't like this plan, though it seemed painfully inevitable to him from his past experiences with this sort of thing.

Blackthorne shook her head,"you know I can't do that. An active session? The things on the report, the things we've seen, are barbaric enough as it is, and this island technically falls under no jurisdiction. It can't be good, Thomas." She paused for a moment before adding, "I'll pull him out of the active session, you take him back to the manor, I'll finish up here and meet you back there. Acceptable?"

The other looked unsure, asking "How is that not overreaching?"

"You said it yourself, we're going to have to take him into custody either way, so we go in, chew out this Auror Moody, and take the potions master into American custody. He tries to argue that we can't, we've got the paperwork showing that not only can we, but it is in fact one of our several mandates. Plus I'm not above pointing out that this type of interrogation is technically a war crime and a human rights violation first," she answered, seeming a bit pleased with herself. Everett couldn't help but concur, and the pair walked back up the steps.

"Take us to the active interrogation chamber please," she ordered, addressing Bennett as they arrived back where he stood. "Unfortunately, that one is one of the three to be taken into American custody for the time. Agent Everett will be escorting him out now, the other two will be handled as previously arranged."

If their companion was surprised by this development, he hid it well. Blackthorne was now beginning to suspect he'd known about this Moody fellow's actions and was not approving. He turned back to address the guard asking, "which chamber?"

"Chamber C, sir." The sentry said, having gained his composure.

Bennett turned on his heels and led them to the second door, flashing his badge with a nod to the guards standing before it. He led them into another rounded chamber, this one containing three thick metal doors. Through the one in the center they could make out a muffled scream of pain. Bennett looked slightly nervous as he knocked loudly three times on the door. The sound stopped, and seconds later the door opened abruptly to reveal a gnarled man with thinning, wild blonde hairs about his head. His eyes uneven, one a beady, heavily hooded black, the other a magical orb which whirred wildly between the three who had interrupted him.

"Have you brought the calvary to win your little fight then, Bennett?" the crooked man snarled, his speech as rough as his appearance.

Before Bennett could speak, Blackthorne interjected icly. "Auror Moody, I am Agent Carys Blackthorne with the American Magical Intelligence Agency. We've come to tour this facility as mandated by the Magical Congress of the United States and the Ministry of Magic. The inmate you are interrogating is one of three who are to be placed in American custody today, and we are here for his immediate retrieval."

Bennett glanced at her with an odd mixture of fear and relief as Moody turned to her. "Agent Blackthorne, eh? I've heard things about you," he smirked. "Does your little friend Bennett here know that this entire facility is technically property of the Blackthorne estate? That you, inquisitor, are the heiress who plans to shut this place down so that you can have your own island?" he paused briefly, inhaling sharply, the silence penetrating before he continued, "Is he aware of your little American agenda to flood our streets with its criminals, known death eaters," he gestured toward the room behind him, "all at your whimsy, of course, as your little Magical Congress allows you to do as you please while you're funding them almost exclusively."

The woman's cool exterior had melted now. Though her expression had hardly changed she was clearly livid, as she glared at Moody. "Is that what you've been led to believe, Auror?" she spat.

Without waiting for an answer she continued, her tone glacial, "because if that is the case, I'm happy to brief you on the reality of the situation. I work both with and for the Magical Intelligence Agency, yes. It's due to my unique position that I have found myself taking many of these tours through dreary hell-holes, as the Blackthorne estate does include forty-three prisons internationally. A good portion of my work has been dedicated to shutting down facilities like this one, where things like illegal interrogations and violations of human rights occur. My efforts have taken place mainly in North America so far, and the results of this have been incredibly favorable. This presents a unique case, given the dual mandate from both the British and American governments. Some of these inmates are high value assets," she gestured toward the room, "who are to be taken into American custody, as has been agreed upon. Those who are not eligible for immediate release will be taken to an approved, more humane facility thanks to the kind support of our French allies."

Blackthorne's voice darkened as she pressed on, "As far as your accusations toward me, Auror Moody, they will be included in my report, as well as the actions you've taken today. You may go, for now, but I would not be terribly surprised if you find yourself joining the vacation to France quite soon."

Moody seemed to use all of the self control he had to leave the circular chamber without saying another word. The door to the atrium slammed shut, and the noise echoed through the antechamber. The three shared a grim breath before Everett turned to his once again steely colleague. "If you wouldn't mind accompanying me in…" he started. Carys nodded tiredly and the pair stepped into the interrogation room.


	3. A Prisoner's Tale

_"Crucio,"_ the gruff interrogator bellowed again, pointing his wand at a mangled man shackled to the stone chair. He had thought he'd lost the ability to produce sound, however the curse managed to elicit a wail of agony. He tensed slightly, however the meager movement was all he could muster, his instinct to struggle had long since gone, and his butchered hands were entirely immobilized, whether this was from shock or injury was unclear. The man's pale face contorted in agony as he felt a sob welling up in his chest, though he knew he was too dehydrated to produce tears.

Every second it felt as though he may not make it to the next, and he could feel the last of his control over his mind collapsing. He feared he wouldn't be able to hold the worst of the painful curse at bay, when a loud knock upon the steel door abruptly ended his suffering.

The interrogator grumbled and hobbled through the door, leaving him gasping and sputtering. Through the door he could hear his muffled voice, raised at whoever had interrupted him. There was a brief pause, and what sounded like a woman was addressing him rather harshly. He tried to make out what she was saying, but only managed to hear the words: 'report', 'surprised', and 'France'. He heard the sound of his interrogator exiting the antechamber, slamming the door to the atrium violently on his way out. There was a brief pause, and a softer-spoken man said something, before the door opened again.

The prisoner didn't have the strength to look up from his slumped position at whoever had entered the room. His greasy, filthy, long, black hair hung over his face making his large hooked nose the most visible part of it. A thick, black, unkept beard grew on his sallow cheeks, and through the curtains of his hair one could still make out an expression of grim acceptance in his deep-set, dark eyes. He was dangerously thin, not entirely skin and bone, but the pair that had entered could see the sharp outlines of his collarbone, sternum, and ribs through his tattered rags. His hands were the only thing that had any visible injury.

"The Cruciatus," a flat-voiced man muttered, low and solemn. "In addition to the obvious, of course. How much can you take care of now? I'll need to aparate to get off of this pile of-" he inhaled sharply, stopping himself.

"I can get the bones basically mended and the wounds closed, however I'll need you to do the _Solatium_ counter-curse," a woman replied in a proper sounding American accent, her voice placid.

The two shuffled around for a moment, before he began to feel a new pain in his throbbing hands as his bones began to shift. On his right he heard the low-voiced man murmur _"Solatio,"_ and a feeling of relief washed over him. This went on for some time before they were both satisfied with his state. He looked up as the woman unshackled him, sure that she was going to re-shackle his hands in front of him, but there were no new chains in her hands. Her features were the softest he'd seen in some time, and her full lips parted as she addressed him. "My name is Carys Blackthorne. I'm with the American government. You're being placed in my direct custody, my colleague will be escorting you from here. Are you able to speak?"

He tried, unable to even produce a grunt, he rasped and coughed making his dry throat ache. She pulled a marble from her pocket and transfigured it into a glass, silently using her wand to fill it with water. She attempted to hand it to him, but unsatisfied by the grip of his trembling fingers, she chose instead to bring the cup to his lips, tilting it back slightly as he sipped the cool water. When he'd finished he tried again to speak, but was still only able to produce a bit of a rasp.

"It's alright, that can be worked on later. Do you think you can stand?" the American asked, impassively looking over him with upturned hazel eyes.

He nodded, and she gingerly helped him to his feet. "This is Agent Everett," she explained, gesturing to her collegue, a towering, well muscled man with a large, defined jaw and dark brown, slightly curly hair. "He'll be escorting you from here. I will meet with you later to further discuss what is happening. For now, I'm sure you are tired and in need of a decent meal, and I have to conclude my business here, so, we should be off," with that, she led the men from the cell, back into the antechamber where a rather unkempt, stout man with curly brown hair stood.

"To the meeting then?" the man asked

"Yes, if we're not too late," Blackthorne replied

"If we begin our descent now we should arrive just in time." he said, and the group exited to the atrium. The four made it down two flights of stairs before the newly freed man was shaking too badly to continue. The woman pulled her cloak off to reveal a neat, fitted pantsuit, and handed it to the feeble man. She then reached into the same pocket the marble had been in and pulled out an unopened bar of dark chocolate, which she graciously ripped slightly before handing it to him. They stood there unspeaking for a few minutes before they were able to continue down the many flights of cold, stone steps.

When they finally reached the bottom the ruffled, stout man unlocked a door to another, larger chamber. As they entered the woman, Carys, spoke again. "Bennett, his things?"

The blowsy man nodded "Yes, yes of course," he said, scurrying off to one of the three doors.

After a long silence, the other man, Agent Everett, spoke again to Carys. "What do you bet we end up with Jacobson handling the others?" he asked, his tone a bit lighter.

To the prisoner's surprised the icy woman snorted and said, smirking, "with the way everything else has gone today? Just my luck, I'll be here until I want to claw my eyes out. Un-doubt-ed-ly."

Everett looked rather amused at this revelation. The two clearly had more to say to each other, however their conversation was cut short by the sound of a door opening and Bennett returning with the prisoner's things.

"Here are the possessions of one Severus Snape," he wheezed, handing the man his possessions, except his wand, which was given to Everett. "I do have a couple of forms that will need signed before we can continue to the meeting," he turned to Snape "perhaps you'd like to change while we do this?"

The rougher looking man nodded at this, and the trio turned away, allowing him privacy as he scrapped his ragged prison clothes, putting on his black robes, socks, and finally shoes. Although he hadn't been here but a month, his own clothes were loose fitting, and he felt as though he was borrowing them from someone else.

Just as he stood from the floor, where he'd crouched to put on his shoes, the three turned back to face him. Carys, who seemed to be the voice of the group, spoke up again, turning to Everett to say, "Well, I shall see you when I've finished here then, hopefully sooner rather than later."

Everett nodded curtly to her, "we'll be off then." He turned to Snape. "Are you ready?" he asked, stoic. The thin man handed Carys' coat back nodding, and Everett gestured for him to walk in front of him to the door directly across from the one they'd entered through. He did, and the other two started toward the remaining door. Once at the entry, Everett stepped in front of him smoothly, opening the door and leading him out onto the grey sand. There was a brawny guard with a large dog at his feet posted about a yard in front of them, who turned to face the pair, eyeing Snape suspiciously. "Papers, please," he said.

Everett produced a neatly folded piece of parchment, and his identification. The guard examined it thoroughly before handing the items back to the other wizard. The American gave another curt nod and gestured once again for Snape to take the lead, motioning in the direction they needed to go. The guard still eyed him suspiciously and he could feel his eyes burning on him as they made their way up a path surrounded by lush, overgrown, bright green grass that was a mercy on the formerly imprisoned man's eyes. Everything else, including the sky itself, was grey on grey, and it was the nicest thing he'd seen in quite some time.

As they reached the peak of the hillock they'd been climbing and began their decent out of the guard's line of sight, Everett took up a slightly more brisk pace, allowing Severus to trail behind him as they made their way to the ashen-looking beach. Once they reached the shore, Everett turned to Snape and said in his bellowing monotone, "We're going to have to apparate now, and there will be a bit more of a walk after, so if you need to stop to rest, this would be the best time."

Severus shook his head at the notion of spending another moment on the wretched isle.

"Excellent," the other man exclaimed, somehow managing to sound simultaneously enthusiastic and banal. He held out his elbow and the ungroomed man put his arm through his stoically. Without another word exchanged, the pair popped from their place on the beach, leaving it once again deserted.

With a crack the two found themselves in what appeared to be an empty field. The sun shone in a blue sky and the convict enjoyed a single breath of fresh, dry air before doubling over, losing the little food he'd eaten. Everett, in the same fashion as his colleague, had silently pulled a marble from his pocket, transfigured it into a glass, and filled it with water. He handed it to Severus, who gripped the vessel much more tightly than last time, using all the strength in his partially-healed hands. He drank gratefully, and handed the cup back to Everett, who returned it to its original state and pocketed it.

"Blackthorne Manor is just over there," the tall, muscled man said. As he did, Severus turned to see a substantial, gated estate where there had previously been only empty field. A fidelius charm without a doubt. The front door was about half a mile from where they stood, before an extravagant entrance. Everett put his arm up, pointing it at the gate, and with a brief flick of his wrist it started to open. He stowed his wand and strode toward the immense residence.

The walk to the doorway was much easier than the walk to the beach had been, and soon they found themselves at the mansion's threshold. The double doors were made of a finely carved dark wood, perhaps mahogany or oak. Everett opened them without a moment's hesitation leading Severus into a large, cozy entryway. A sitting area through which he could see a darkened hallway set to his left, a curved staircase directly in front of him led to an overhang and another darkened hallway. Everett led him off to the right, down a warmly lit corridor, to a substantial kitchen. He gathered some more chocolate, crackers, and a jar of peanut butter, and a butter knife. His arms full, he motioned with his head for Severus to follow him.

Through the door on the other side of the kitchen, Severus found himself in an ample dining room, with four doors including the one they'd entered from. Everett set the food on the table

"Eat as much as you're able, I'll be back in a moment," he said. He walked briskly disappearing through door to his right. Severus sat at the long table. Ten chairs sat around it, all but the one he occupied pushed in neatly. He turned his attention to his food, dismayed when he realized that Everett had neglected to find him anything to drink. With some struggle he managed to open one of the chocolates, he broke off a piece popping it into his mouth. The newly freed man chewed it slowly, relishing the moment. He portioned himself another bite before standing again. He decided to return to the kitchen to hunt down a beverage after some thought, determining that the worst consequence of doing so would perhaps be a slight scolding.

The worn man had managed to produce a glass of water for himself, and had just sat back down when Everett entered once more. He either didn't notice or didn't care that Severus had gone for a drink. His arm extended and he opened his large hand which held a small vial containing a pale blue liquid.

"This, as you can likely identify, is a vial of _Vox Salvum._ It should have you able to speak by this time tomorrow. I'd imagine you'll spend most of that time resting. When you've finished, I'll find you a room to sleep in."

Severus took the vial appreciatively, immediately drinking its contents. The potion had a slightly minty taste to it, assuring him that is was in fact what he claimed. He managed to get a few crackers down before his shrunken stomach couldn't handle any more. While he did so, Everett had produced a planner and opened it, jotting a few things down. When Severus had finished, he stood, picking up the unopened chocolate bar. Everett replaced his planner and turned back to the door he had come from, leading the other back through toward the entrance, and up the stairs. He was led down another warmly lit hallway. This one led into larger, open area. Everett turned to a door a few paces to their left, opening it for him.

"Agent Blackthorne's study is through the door directly across the hall. When you wake, one of us will either be there or in the sitting area we passed on our way in." Without pause, he gave his farewell "If you'll excuse me, I've got some things I need to take care of." He gave a sharp nod and strode back the way they'd come. Severus stumbled into the room, closing the door behind him. He noticed very little beyond the large, soft bed before him. Almost forgetting to place the chocolate on the nightstand, he flopped down onto the bed and was unable to muster a full thought about the strange events of his day before drifting into a deep slumber.


End file.
